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Slow by Martin Louis Woodside The piano is slow and it claims not to know what’s going on how we got stuck here. The piano has been resigned to this room with a ceaseless whipped dog of a melody; it claims that it loves me. Folded, unfolded, encrusted in folds, in a rustle of cloth some coarse, worn material a nun’s habit, a soldier’s pea coat casting coteries of color sifted and shafted; it claims not to know. The author writes: The second stanza is meant to be more abstract though definitely building off the feeling and more importantly the sound of the first. In the first there's an image and a sound created in specific space( the piano in the room). In the second stanza I wanted to nurture the feeling and build on the sound while removing it from the image and the space: kind of an opening up or blooming of the music, a re-imagining of that feeling or sound which still ends up a bit removed. |
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Document last modified on: 08/19/2003